Blog Vomit

Because at some point, it aaaaallll just has to come out. Because my brain is overflowing with crap that is mucking up any creative anything that might be lurking in a dark corner of my frontal lobe.

I think I really need to get my ass in gear. Yeah. I'm sitting in my teeny house, surrounded by too many furry creatures whom I love but who also just keep making messes and wrecking my stuff. My stairwell, which I started painting 2 years ago, is in a limbo of incompletion that is starting to make me twitch. Yet I can't seem to get it done somehow. Just the thought of finding the stuff I need to finish it....ugh. Ditto starting to paint the rest of the house, which really really needs it. 6 years of dogs and people and rabbits (oh my!) means dings, scuffs, splashes, crackles, and giant splashes of red hair dye all over the bathroom door. I'm not very good at aiming the little squirty bottle at the back of my head, so the door looks like a prop for a low-budget Friday the 13th remake. But I just can't seem be be arsed to fix it.

My yard is full of junk. Junk I don't know how to get rid of. I shouldn't say yard; it's mostly confined to an out-of-sight out-of-mind covered patio behind my garage. It's there because the garage is full. The garage is full because I have that genetic predilection to not throw stuff out. Bonus: the genetic predilection of being afraid that whatever I do with it will be the wrong thing so it might as well
just...stay...right...there. Ugh.

I keep making goals. No. I keep setting goals and then not making them. Because it's just too damn easy to...not do anything different. My day is typically made up of running errands, doing something at or for the Girl's school, doing the dishes and facebook. Something has got to change. I've been saying that for...what, 5 years now? When do I really get off my proverbial and literal ass and do things?

Ugh.

People need to stop making more people. But maybe my priorities are wonky. 'Nuff said.

I need to make a copy of my car key.

My cat is deaf. It's both funny and annoying.

These extra 20 pounds just don't seem to be losing themselves.

K. I'll stop now before anyone who might accidentally read this really starts to worry. Or starts to seriously avoid me.
I'm not crazy, I'm just...distracted.